


Pups and Packs

by ambersagen



Series: The Witcher's Pack [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Animal Instincts, Crack, Creature Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, F/M, Found Family, Gen, Geralt's Witcher instincts see Jaskier as a puppy who needs a dad, Give Yennifer a child, Jaskier is hopeless, M/M, Mixes of Game and Netflix personalities, Multi, Soft Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Witcher Pack, Yennefer parents Jaskier too, and silly, fine, just soft, more tags to come, no kink, no not that one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:33:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25667491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambersagen/pseuds/ambersagen
Summary: The men jeer, swaying in their seats, the stink of alcohol and unwashed bodies mixes with the depression that hangs over the bar like a miasma, and all Geralt can think about is a bed he can’t afford. He does feel a pang of something in his gut as he sees the boy furtively glance around before snatching up the tossed food from the floor.Poor pup, scavenging for supper when he should be tucked away safely at home somewhere with his pack to make sure he has a full belly.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, its a story about the boys but can be read gen or romantic, sort of - Relationship
Series: The Witcher's Pack [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1880662
Comments: 37
Kudos: 275
Collections: Good Relationship Etiquette (familial included) - or Good BDSM Etiquette - or Good Relationship and BDSM Etiquette





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Have a thing

There is a bard playing at the tavern.

This isn’t unusual, of course. Most taverns or inns will have a bard around, usually providing a background hum of tolerable sound, insomuch as it's usually the same kind of sound no matter the bard and so was easily tuned out. Bards, as a rule, play something upbeat or bawdy, or both. They all tend to blend together in Getalt’s ear, and he usually tunes them out as non entities because bards never, again -as a rule, pick fights with Witchers.

This bard isn't like that.

Geralt winces, setting down his mug of only barely tolerable ale as the bard warbles something about abortions and gets pelted with food by angry townsfolk. He has a pounding headache, the result of too little sleep and a concussion he received from a particularly vicious ghoul a few towns back, and he can’t say he isn't grateful when the bard cuts his song short. The men jeer, swaying in their seats, the stink of alcohol and unwashed bodies mixes with the depression that hangs over the bar like a miasma, and all Geralt can think about is a bed he can’t afford. He does feel a pang of something in his gut as he sees the boy furtively glance around before snatching up the tossed food from the floor. He seems very young to be singing for coin in a place like this but surely even shitholes like Posada wouldn't allow just any street urchin to play entertainment.

 _Poor pup, scavenging for supper when he should be tucked away safely at home somewhere with his pack to make sure he has a full belly_.

Geralt shakes himself, barely suppressing a groan. Fucking annoying. He hated the way his mutated, practically feral beast side always seemed to grow louder and more demanding any time he wasn't feeling in top mental shape. Of course, he wasn’t going to argue that it was often useful to see the world in black and white, everything filtered through a simple, animal lens while his body was injured and attention lagging. Everything and everyone condensed down to Danger or Not Danger. But then again, there were times like these. Sometimes his inner beast would get mixed up, and that’s when weird ideas started to slip through, sad things like feeling sorry for this silly pup with bread scraps stuffed down his pants and a hopeful look on his face who is...fuck, approaching the dark corner Geralt specifically staked out as a safe point from which to sulk away his headache in peace.

“I love the way you just sit there and brood.” The pup says, and Geralt just stares blankly at him. The pup isn’t deterred however, and continues yapping on about his music or something, Geralt isn’t sure, having been distracted by the grumbling of the pup’s stomach that is no doubt not audible to human ears, but to his enhanced mutant senses is a pathetic cry for attention. Geralt knows he grumbles something unfriendly, telling the bard something about wanting to drink alone even as he mentally struggles not to pull the pup over by the scruff and stick him in the corner behind the table where he could wait for his parents to come claim him. Maybe he was a young adolescent? He could be out on his own for the first time, surely someone was still looking after this noisy little thing? Geralt gave the human a critical look, taking in the lanky longness that most adolescent creatures had about them, trying to ignore the continuing growling of the pup's belly as the boy rambled on playfully, enjoying the Witcher's attention and willingness to interact. Or at least his tolerance, if not willingness exactly. The pup must be desperate for attention if Geralt was the kindest person he could find to bother.

The pup - no. He sighs. This needed to stop. It wasn't his job to look after strays, and he shouldn't be encouraging humans to talk to him unless they had work for him to do. Still, he couldn't help but drop his last coin on the table for the boy _,_ a _human bard_ and _not_ a _Witcher pup_ , resisting the urge to pat him on his fluffy head as he walked out. He ignored the indignant and excited chatter of the bard as he went to collect Roach, the contract posting he had found earlier that crunching stiffly in his pocket as he checked his gear.

To his surprise the bard did not take the hint and leave him be. No, not at all.

"Fuck," he grumbled under his breath as he heard the tell-tale sounds of excited wheezing and the shouted "Wait up!" as he lead Roach down the road to check out this supposed 'devil' contract.

"Need any help?" The bard asks hopefully, almost tripping on a rock in the road as he trailed along after the Witcher. Geralt growled lowly as the boy continues to bounce in and out of his personal space, making a lot of noise and kicking up more dust than Roach. "Oh come on, why so grumpy?" the pup -BARD whines at him as he shows no indication of wanting to play. Geralt sighs heavily, his usual vocabulary of grunts and scowls not nearly enough to communicate just how much he did not need help, or company. This human was exhausting to be around, and he didn't particularly want him along on this hunt anyway.

"You should go back. Devil or not this is no place for you, and I don't need the distraction." Geralt said, turning to mount up. Maybe if he urged her into a trot the pup would give up and wander back home.

He didn't think it would be very dangerous, but even a Witcher couldn’t be sure. No doubt it was just a wild boar or some other animal that had scared the villagers out of their wits. Or even more likely, human bandits, considering the grain was stolen straight from the silos. A human would be nothing but a hindrance in a fight, and Geralt didn't want to be responsible when the boy inevitably got hurt. It would be better for them both if he returned to town now, before they had gone too far to return before sunset.

_It would be far too easy for him to get lost on his own then, vulnerable and alone with no one to guard him. Easy pickings for a hungry predator. They will strip the meat from his bones before he even has a chance to run._

"Hello? You sure are broody. Why is that? Surely the Butcher of Blaviken isn't worried over a little devil or two?"

Geralt grunted, fighting back the sudden heat of rage that flared at the use of that damned moniker. He stopped a moment, turning to the pup and neatly thumping him in the stomach, a warning to back off, lest he start something he couldn’t finish. The last thing Geralt needed was rough play and pups who didn't know when enough was enough.

The boy yelped at the smack, curling in on himself with a groan, and Geralt almost groaned himself when he saw the hurt and confused look on the human's face. Great. _Too young to understand when a bite is a warning and when it was meant to wound._ He had never had much to do with the younger boys back in Kaer Morhen, only ever tumbling around with those his age or training with the older ones. Back then they had tousled until blood was drawn, and a swift cut or sharp blow was enough to warn his fellows when their play became too rough. It was understood, and he had been on the receiving end enough himself to know when someone meant him actual harm. He was pretty sure regular human children had similar rules, but hells, it wasn’t like he spent any amount of time around them to be sure.

The pup didn't seem to have as much sense anyway, and continued to trail after him hopefully even as he took his spot on Roach's back, urging her into a light trot. Geralt imagined if he had a tail it would be tucked between his legs but wagging nonetheless. Silly bard.

"You know, I see why you don't like the title. It's a bit uncouth, isn't it? Not quite suiting your majestic image, really. I—uh,” he coughed a bit, but managed to straighten back up as he walked off the punch. “I could help with that, if you like? I may not be much in a fight but it would be nothing to sing songs of your noble heroics! The tales of your Witchering would be known far and wide if you would let me, uh, oh wow, your girl sure is fast huh? Whew, horse stamina!” He wheezed, and Geralt felt his lips twitching up in a smile despite himself. It was a weird sound, he couldn’t be blamed for his involuntary bodily responses.

“Anyway, as I was saying, I could sing of your deeds! If you let me tag along?"

“Would it matter if I said no?” Geralt asked the air in general, apparently rightfully so as the bard just continued to talk to himself, giving answers or not in place of the Witcher.

Roach flicked her tail in irritation until he slowed her pace enough for the bard to talk and keep up away from her heels at the same time. His head throbbed as the bard took this as permission to start composing. It was going to be a long day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *blows kiss*

“They say all this land used to belong to the elves.” The bard says, looking around at the dry earth with a small frown. A few hours of walking had put them far enough out of town that even the path was more a game trail than a true walkway. The rocks had become more numerous, and ominous if you took the bard's increasingly anxious complaining into account. “That they taught the humans to till the earth and sail the rivers before they gave the land to the people as a final gift before departing to their golden palaces.”

Geralt stopped, turning slowly in the saddle to stare at the human.

“That’s the stupidest thing I've heard you say yet.” And that was saying something considering he had heard the bard say quite a lot already. But this was exceptionally stupid, to the point of insult.

“Let me guess,” he grimaced, dismounting to lead Roach between a tight patch of rock. His ears were pricked for any sound of life, but so far there was nothing but bird calls, the occasional rabbit, and the non stop chatter of the bard. “The Great Cleansing was just some ‘friendly’ humans helping the elves out with a bit of spring cleaning before the elves gave away all their homeland as and everything that goes with it so they could go live in these mysteriously vacant golden palaces?” He snorted, lip pulling back over his canines in a sneer that could not be seen by the human behind him. “And I suppose I’ll be giving my horse and swords to the next alderman who spits on me instead of handing over payment.”

“Huh. I...you know, you have a point?” The bard's voice did a weird thing, going high up with confusion and embarrassment, and Geralt fought the urge to shake the pup. Whoever his training masters were, they had done him a disservice. Vesemir would have a good yell about human idiocy the next time Geralt swapped tales with the old Witcher. He scowled at the dirt, gritting his teeth against further ranting on the subject. One person’s opinion was rarely enough to change another’s after all.

They walked in silence, the lack of chatter from the human as surprising as anything else he had done so far.

It didn’t last.

“Well.” The bard timidly stepped up behind him as he entered the narrow space. “It’s a good thing you let me come along then, right? So I can learn the real story." His doublet caught on a branch, and he struggled to free himself, swearing loud enough to cause a few prairie birds to take flight in alarm. With a sigh, Geralt stopped to free him from the tangle of branches, scowling deeply at the bard, who only grinned sheepishly back. "Thank you, Witcher. The dangers of the road are vast and varied indeed. Alright!" he clapped his hands together with a flourish, stepping in front of Geralt to avoid further direct angry eye contact with the Witcher. "Where is this devil then? I must see the real thing, the glorious, fantastic beasts that roam these forsaken lands.”

Wistfully, Geralt imagined the lovely silence he could have been riding in, had he not wanted a drink so badly before heading out. He cursed his past self, and rubbed his throbbing temples as the bard continued to stumble on along side him, chattering away.

Just as he was considering possibly using Axii on the human just for a moment’s peace the pair of them, plus horse, finally reached what seemed like a dead end to their path.

“Hmm.” He frowned at the rock face rising above them, and dismounted. He could leave Roach here to graze while he went to investigate this vaguely suspicious roadblock.

“Oh, are we sneaking now?” The bard whisper-shouted, a thing Geralt hadn’t even known was possible before now.

“Shut up.” He ordered, in a proper whisper, and his face must have been wrathful enough because the bard actually did fall silent.

He took a deep breath, scenting the open space before them. There was nothing there of blood or pain. Just the sweet, dry smell of the wild grass and desert bushes, and oddly enough, something that reminded him of his brother. Fuck. Having the silly pup around was making him wistful for his pack. He needed to focus!

Eskel. Something- goat like? Like men, and the animals they tended. Men and goats...goatmen?

“Fuck,” he hissed to himself, forgetting of course, that he wasn’t by himself.

“What is it? Do you see the devil? Oh, I must get a look at this magnificent beast myself!”

Geralt was a moment too slow to stop the pup from jumping up into the open space, and the moment he left the cover of the rocks something moves in the brush. A blur of motion, a disturbance of air displaced, and something shoots out from the foliage with a speed that only allows the Witcher to tell that it isn't an arrow, thank the gods, before whatever it is hits the bard square in the face with enough force to blind, had the object been only a hair off target.

The bard fell to the ground in a heap, and Geralt _roared_. He leapt at the thing in the bush, fury lending him speed as he tackled the creature right out of it's cover, rolling them both around on the ground as he focused his attack on the thing's face. A quick twist of the creature's horns laid it prone, and two blows to its face left the creature-a fawn looking thing- dazed and bloodied on the ground. _Good. End the threat, protect the pup. Protect the pack, defend what's ours._

Enraged as he was at the target before him he never saw the elves coming, and a stabbing blackness swallowed him up before he could eliminate the threat under his claws.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am doing my best to update my long fics but the problem is....they are LONG. fuck me.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm about ready to pass out from lack of sleep so hopefully this is decent enough.

He was surprised to wake up again. 

The smell of the place was the first thing to rouse his mind to consciousness. Elves. A group of unknown number but enough to make the cool, dark space they have taken him to smell lived in. Elves always had a wet smell, like grass after a heavy rain. It tasted like chlorophyll under his tongue. 

He took a deep breath, jaw falling open as he tasted the world around him like a story on his tongue. 

He could feel the pup, the shape of his arms and the rough bindings looped around and between the two of them telling him they were tied together. Old blood and the light scent of flowers indicated that at least no new harm had befallen the pup since their capture, and his breaths were steady, if slightly shallow from the constricting ropes. The soft crunch of dirt under a leather boot combined with green smells and the cold salt of steal gave away the presence of at least four or five elves. Goat and dry grass tickled his throat, and he opened slitted cat eyes to watch the Goatman enter the cave on the heels of an elf man who was clearly some sort of leader. 

He didn't bother to feign sleep as the Alpha elf approached, stopping before him with an expression that held the weight of the world in his sad gaze. Kidnapped, bound, and beaten, Geralt was less than sympathetic to whatever weighed on him. 

"Ohhhhhh, fuck." The pup moaned, wiggling a little as he came awake, only for the scent of pain to spike and his movement to stop with a whimper. His head wound was the likely culprit. "Witcher? Geralt? What's going on?"

"Silence!"

An elf woman, one of the small group who had been present in the room guarding them before the Alpha showed up, lashed out, her foot connecting to the bard with an audible crack, and the pup yelped in pain. Geralt snarled, his vision going red as he felt the human tremble where he sagged against the Witcher's back. _He didn't care what Vesemir said about avoiding conflicts with humans or elves. If she dared to touch his pack again he would rip out her throat with his teeth._ He didn't care if her blood tasted like tree sap, he wouldn't let anyone hurt a pup under his protection again. 

"You said nobody would get hurt!" The goat creature complained, pulling limply at the elf woman's arm as his wide, horizontal eyes flicked nervously toward the bound Witcher.

_Good. Meat should be scared of antagonizing a predator._ The pup was groaning at his back now, and it was only the lack of any fresh blood scent that kept Geralt from leaping up and making dinner out of this heard of idiots right this minute. His head was pounding in tempo to the blood pumping through him at fighting speeds. His abnormally slow Witcher's pulse speeding up in anticipation of the danger surrounding them. 

"It's just humans," she spat, but allowed the creature to pull her away from the captives. "They deserve worse for what they have done to us! I will give them worse for all our murdered kin." 

The threat spiked through him like a mouthful of White Gull, and the animal within him surged to the foreground, no potions needed to tempt the monster blood under his skin to life.

"If humans have driven you to sink so low as to hurt innocents then it would be a mercy to end you," he growled, bearing his fangs like he never dared do around humans. Magic rushed in rhythmic pulses through the rivers of his veins, morphing and manipulating his body for whatever dangers threatened. If these elves wanted a fight then they would learn what kind of a monster they were taking on soon enough. "Let the bard go."

"Why?" The woman scoffed, leaning a little with a wheeze as if she were the one who had just broken a rib. He could hear a crackling, wet sound to her lungs that on any monster would indicate an easy kill. She was sick, possibly dying, if his senses were to be believed. "Why should we listen to humans? Why should we spare any who have so mercilessly worked for our destruction?"

"Because if you don't I will kill you, pity or not." Geralt said, snapping the bone of his thumb back to create space and twisting his arms up and out of the ropes in one swift movement as the elves drew back in collective fear. He slid gracefully into a defensive posture, tucking the pup behind his leg as the pup fell backwards with a confused yelp, his support suddenly having left him. "I am ready to die, at any time, as all Witchers are." It was the truth, but he didn't think his death would be the outcome of today. Not with the way the elves skittered out of his immediate reach like deer before a wolf. "Kill me if you feel it would do you any good, but don't hurt the bard,” he bared his teeth, the tingling in his jaw matching the elongating, vicious canines he felt scraping his lips as he met the fearful eyes of the elves. “And don't call me human.”

“Who cares if you’re not human?” The elf woman sneered, but she was clearly shaken. The whole cave was starting to smell of overripe fruit, and he bared his fangs at her in warning, aware of her eyes flicking towards the weapons she had foolishly set aside earlier, when they thought him tamed and unconscious. “You protect them, even when they treat you like a monster. They've corrupted you just as much as they’ve corrupted this land and the very magic of the universe!”

He didn't justify that with a reply. He _was_ a monster, and humans were smart to sense it. Whether they ever saw him like this or not, with horns and fangs and hulking limbs meant to tear and maim, they knew. Something deep in humans always knew, always felt some shiver of fear when a Witcher walked among them. 

“Geralt?” The pup is pulling at the ropes that still bind his arms tight against his back, and although he stinks of worry and pain Geralt can’t help but be relieved. If he was able to move so much then he probably wasn’t hurt too badly.

“What’s going on? Are you going to fight them? Geralt I can’t move-“

“Quiet, bard,” he orders, his voice rumbling in that animal way he usually hides with silence. _Don't speak, file down your pointed edges, curve your spine around to hide your height, protect your soft belly and pretend to be as vulnerable as the two legged prey you protect from the monsters who would devour them._

To his surprise the pup does fall silent, although not entirely still as he continues straining around to get a glimpse of the Witcher. “I have no intention of starting a fight today,” Geralt says, and his eyes never leave the that unnatural blue gaze of the Alpha. He can taste the elf man's fear, like ammonia on the tip of his tongue. He licks his fangs, and his ears prick as the bard gives a tense huff of breath, unaware of the unnatural changes to his companion that have taken place behind his back. “But I have no objections to finishing one, if it comes down to it.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary, Witcher." The elf had a good poker face, but there was no hiding his flinch as Geralt crouched down, flexing elongated claws and bracing his feet as he covered his human protectively with his body, unwilling to let them even look freely on his pack while the pup was still bound and vulnerable. "I am Filivandrel, King, barely, of what is left of my people. We are simply refugees of the Great Cleansing, a wounded people looking for a home. I have no wish for war with you or your kin, only for our lands to be relinquished back to us so that my people and I may not starve."

Geralt growled, impatient with these politics. Fancy words meant nothing when the elves had already kidnapped and wounded his pack. Behind him the pup was wiggling, no doubt trying to see their captors. He gave a frustrated grunt when Geralt pushed him back safely behind him with an easy nudge of his foot. The pup was too light, he really did need a few good meals in him to put some meat on his bones. 

“Pardon me, but I really don't understand this at all. Apparently much of what I know of history is complete garbage and an embarrassment to the curriculum of my Alma Mater but I've been in Posada for days now and I know the evidence of my own eyes." 

The elves were looking at the pup now, and Geralt unsubtlely showed his fangs in case they forgot the monster in their midst. 

"This land is shit now, whatever it might have been before. We’ve - humans have killed what vitality was here." The pup says, and Geralt couldn't disagree. The land was over farmed, stripped bare of wild forging and most animals hunted to scarcity. The cities did fair trade by virtue of the main road that wound through the land on the way to more prosperous locations but it was frankly surprising that the locals had much grain for the elves to steal to begin with. "I could- I could spread the word of your retreat," his pup said, excitement growing as his scheme develops before them. "This is the Edge of the World after all, only death and wasteland beyond this. Poison and suffering. Likely untrue, but apparently humans will believe anything. If we spin a scary enough tale they will stay away. You could rebuild.”

Silence stretched out as the elves looked to their king. The pup was holding his breath in anticipation, and Geralt eyed the weapons and exits in preparation should things go sour. 

Finally, the silence broke. 

"The human speaks the truth, painful though it may be." The elf king steadied himself, and Geralt watched warily as he moved across the room, stopping before the elf woman and gently laying his hands on her shoulder in comfort and command. "I believe this is a sign. It is time for us to move on. There is nothing to be gained from these scuffles and raids on the humans."

Cat eyes met king's eyes and they considered each other. Finally, the elf king nodded.

"Free them."

⚔️ 🌼 🐺 🌼 ⚔️

Evening stretched its red orange glow across the darkening sky as Witcher and bard, plus horse, trudged their tired way into town. In the end no monster had been defeated in this hunt, and only Geralt's menacing had gotten their possessions returned without a scuffle. The bard had been too thrilled by the reluctant reimbursement of an elven lute to replace the lute which had been destroyed in their capture to notice Geralt hastily trimming back his claws with a dagger and forcing his body to release its battle ready transformation with a hastily consumed shot of White Honey. He was relieved to regain a more human appearance, as the human's happy scent, untainted by fear of the Witcher in his presence, had been growing on him. He didn't want to scare the human with his monstrous appearance. 

His luck had held, and they had both escaped with their skins and the human seemingly none the wiser to what had really transpired behind his back in that cave, and the monstrous transformation of his companion.

“This is great. Despite my sore everything and that bit where we almost died I have to say, I really enjoyed our little adventure!" Geralt paused his steps as it became clear the bard was no longer following, having stopped just out of the reach of the light of town's few torches. Roach tossed her head, no doubt aware that a nice comfortable stable was close at hand. He patted her side sympathetically as the bard actually started to take steps back, away from the din and lights of the tavern. "And so, I must be off!”

Geralt grunted, dropping his attentions to Roach in confusion as the bard gave him a blinding smile, but refused to move another step.

“Thank you so much for allowing me to travel with you. I can feel it in my bones,” he says, staring dramatically up at the gathering clouds with a fist clenched to his breast. “The ballad of this adventure will be famous across the continent soon enough!”

Geralt didn't understand what was happening. The only thing he did understand was that he was exhausted, and he wished the pup would get to the point already. He gave the tavern a significant look.

“Ah, I know what you must be thinking. A great ballad needs an audience! And it's true. But, uh, a great ballad needs the correct audience and I fear that this town is strongly lacking in the kind of refined taste that our tale deserves. Thus, I am afraid this is where we part ways.”

“What?” Geralt ground out in frustration. His stomach was aching for a meal and the silly puppy didn’t want to stop? Did he think he could just go wandering off into the dark, alone and weaponless? There was a reason Geralt’s Path wound through Dol Blathanna every few years, and it wasn’t for the quality of the ale. Plenty of scavengers waited in the dark for lonely travelers. _And_ s _tupid pups make for easy snacks._

“Yes, there’s a town not more than a few hours away along the north road by foot, and the weather is fine!”

Geralt glared up at the still gathering clouds in disbelief.

The silly pup gave him a forced smile. “I know! Parting is painful, but art demands—hey!”

Geralt, finally out of patience, scruffed the silly pup, who yelped and whined but did little more than flail as the Witcher pulled him toward the tavern. Geralt ignored his whining, letting it wash over him like so much bird song.

“Boarding and oats for the night,” he grunted at the stable boy, who had hung back until Geralt thrust the reins in his direction, no doubt wishing to stay out of whatever had the bard making so much noise. “We leave at first light, so keep her tack out and ready.”

The bard finally ceased his whining, turning wide, hopeful eyes on the Witcher.

“We? As in, together?”

“Hmm." Geralt confirmed, mind already drifting back to the thought of a bath and bed to sleep in. 

“Umm, Geralt. I don’t,” he rubbed the strap of his lute case anxiously, and Geralt considered just picking up the damn pup and throwing him over his shoulder. The tavern was right there!

The pup's scent was sour, and he wouldn't meet the Witcher's eyes as he cleared his throat a few times, awkwardly. “The truth is, I haven’t any coin to pay for a room, you see. Much less supper. Well, I guess I have _a_ coin, and very kind of you to tip your humble bard, really. But you saw the rest of those fellows, no taste at all-“

“For fucks sake. I will pay. Just get inside already, before I eat you instead.”

The sudden smell of happiness made Geralt sneeze, surprise almost making him go cross-eyed at the force of it. It was like falling headfirst into a rosebush, if the rosebush also smelled like road sweat and dirt.

The pup beamed at him. “I knew it. You truly are a hero, sir Witcher. You won’t regret this.” He did a little wiggle that might have been a dance, and FINALLY took off toward the door to the tavern.

“You’ll see. I’ll soon pay you back double. This song will make both our fortunes! People will sing the praises of Geralt of Rivia, The White Wolf! And his loyal bard, of course.” The pup pushed open the door with a flourish that almost knocked a barmaid off her feet and got him a few choice words, which he ignored completely.

“The Great Bard Jaskier and The White Wolf return!” He crowed. Someone threw a half eaten roll at his head, and he swore as it bounced off his still tender skull.

Geralt rumbled, feeling surprisingly content considering that after all this trouble he was right back to where he started. Looks like he would be buying this silly pup a meal after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of this part! From here on out I am abandoning most of the canon story as I have no interest in copy pasting the show script into a fanfic. That's no fun! But there will indeed be Even More Pup/Pack goodness ahead, so please do subscribe and comment if you value this writing! Stay safe out there!


End file.
